


9:57

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, Modern AU, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:28:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3292013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barduil coffee shop AU. Bard works in a coffee shop and there's this blonde man who comes every day. </p><p>And it's not just for the coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9:57

Bard had seen that guy come in every day of the week, at exactly 9:57 am, for the last three weeks. He would order the hardest drink to do in the whole coffee shop, had the money prepared and gave the exact amount, smiled a bit when given the coffee and left. He was blonde and blue eyed, tall as a fucking tree and always impeccably dressed. He moved as if he owned the place and had a beautiful grave voice with which he ordered.

At first, at least. At some point the moment came when he didn't even have to say anything, just smile softly at Bard and he would get started. Bard wondered what is life was like. He imagined him living in a loft, partying like an animal and then bringing back to his house the most gorgeous women and/or men he'd met and being wild on the sheets. Bard had heard him scream at people on the phone, so he figured he was some big name of a enterprise or something and loosened up at night.

Yes, Bard had imagined all of this man's life because just a glimpse of him every 9:57 am wasn't enough. He'd imagined the man buying those expensive suits he always wore, being succesful and mean and eating on the best places and doing what he wanted.

Thranduil had too wondered about his friendly coffe-man-person, who did such artistic work with the coffee and always seemed cheerful, no matter how many people he had to serve, or what shitty weather they had. Thranduil thought that he probably wouldn't be so happy if he had a job like that, but it was a nice change from gloomy executives (He would later learn that it wasn't that Bard was always happy - it was that he was happy when he saw Thranduil).

Thranduil imagined Bard (yes, he had read his name tag about one hundred times) living in a small apartment downtown, with a pretty girlfriend or wife, and possibly a cat. They would be considering having kids by now, but wanted to wait until they both had better jobs, and listened to folk music and songwriters and went to dinner with other couples and drank beer and things like that. And they had a problematic ex, or a neighbor, or an in-law and that was cause for arguments. Also, when was Bard going to get enough off days to go on a proper holiday? The pretty wife asked and Thranduil was annoyed at her because the nice the coffee making person deserved someone better than a partner who shouted at you for trying to make a living. Someone like him.

Thranduil could hire Bard as his personal caffeinator and then they could get holidays together and sue the problematic neigbor for...whatever and rode off to the sunset. With coffee. And then Legolas wouldn't look at him with that serious face and tell him that he was worried. A teenager shouldn't tell his father that he thought he was too lonely. Thranduil wasn't lonely. (Well, maybe a bit). And damn you, Thranduil, you are the chief operating officer of a national enterprise, a single father so why and how had you elaborated such a complex fantasy of this man who served coffee and his life?

The routine continued for a while. There were more Hellos, thank yous, have a good day and occasional compliments to the coffee, but they never got past the niceties. Sometimes Thranduil would go more than once a day to the coffee shop, if he could get out of the meetings, or other commitments he had. He liked it there, he liked the smiling man with the soulful dark eyes and worn hands and he liked his you're welcome and he liked it there. 

And then one day it was 9:57 and the blonde man didn't come and Bard regretted never asking something else, a name, at least, maybe ask him to dinner or something. He didn't even know his name. Blonde beauty executive. He probably had a beautiful but unusual name, like something from a myth. Tristan, maybe. He would call him Tristan until he got a name. That would do.

The next day Tristan wasn't back, or the next one. Bard considered looking him up on the internet, but what was he going to google? Good looking blonde executives? Hot CEOs in the area?

Four days later, he came back, on the evening instead of the morning and he wasn't alone. But he hadn't come with his latest conquest, or a business associate, but with a long haired teenager who looked remarkably like him.

"What are you having, Legolas?"

"That coffee thing you're always talking about"

"Should I let you drink coffee at this hour? You know what, I am letting you. If you can't sleep later you entertain yourself."

He smiled at Bard with his usual smile and said it will be two this time with that voice of his. He looked a bit paler than usual and wore more comfortable clothes so Bard figured he'd been sick.

"That your kid?" Bard asked, wanting to know more about him. A teenage son didn't fit his fantasies. At all. It probably also meant that he was married, which was a bit of a bummer.

"Yes. He's a bit whiny because the girl he likes has a new boyfriend but I can't complain."

Bard smiled. He knew the feeling.

"My oldest is fifteen now too, but helps around the house and comes back at the assigned times and for that I'm grateful."

"You have children as well?" That didn't fit in what Thranduil had imagined either, not that it was bad.

"Three. Main reason why I'm here all these hours."

As nice as the conversation was, a line was forming, and they knew that they couldn't keep this up for long. Thranduil gave him the money and departed, with that soft smile reserved just for him and went back to the table where his kid was. But no. That couldn't be the end.

"Wait! You! Tristan?" Thranduil looked back with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe we could continue this conversation when neither of us is working?"

Well, that sounded promising. Thranduil took one his cards and wrote something in the back, then gave it back to the brunette. It just said, in wondrous handwriting:

_It's Thranduil, but that is the closest anyone has gotten. I will be waiting for your call, Bard the barman._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! Feedback very appreciated!


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